Sister Souljah - Life After Death

“And you answered ‘yes’ that you are ready to stop playing and stop pretending that you do not understand when you do. I’m grateful for all of these gifts from Allah. Are you?” He asked me this with a solidness that I have only seen in one man while being alive on Earth, Midnight. The man who I loved with my whole heart, who if he would have loved me too, my whole life would have been better than the most beautiful dream sprinkled with my most incredible fantasy that I have ever dreamed or imagined.

“Yes,” was all I said after my somewhat long pause.

“Saying you are grateful is easy. Making the prayers and expressing your thankfulness in this humbled way is showing that you are grateful, through action, not only words,” he explained.

“I like action,” I said.

“Let’s get started with our prayer. Stand behind me,” he said.

“Why? If I am your mother like you said I am, I should stand in front of you and you should stand behind me.”

“Prayers are performed how Allah requires us to do them, not how each of us prefers that they should or should not be done. And Allah is the Best Knower. You and I are not.” He spoke sternly, so to dead all of the religious talk, I got behind him. He raised his hands in the air and held them close to his ears. I followed his action. But damn, I felt like I was about to get arrested. Isn’t that what the police always say, “Put your hands in the air”? Either that or I was at some dope-ass party where the DJ would be like, “Now throw your hands in the air and wave them like you just don’t care.” I smiled at the thought of being at a party. Good thing Young Drummer ain’t no mind reader. Plus, he couldn’t see me smiling. I was standing behind him.

Young Drummer said, “God is the Greatest,” three times. I did not say anything. He continued on, speaking now in a different language. One minute he was standing. Next minute he was bent forward. The next minute he was on his knees. Next moment he lowered his forehead to the ground. He repeated these kinds of actions. When he was finally back to standing and out of his trance, he said, “Now that our prayers are completed, shortly I will need to return to my position.” Then he pointed one finger up.

“Your position?”

“Yes, after my mercy with you today, Alhamdulillah, I must return to my duty of guarding the boundary of Heaven along with many others on duty for the same reason. We protect Heaven’s perimeter, bomb the devils who try to enter the Heavens and create and expand their mischief and wickedness, by luring the good souls who are striving to stay on the straight path. There is no evil in Heaven. Allah never allows evil to enter a Paradise that they have not earned and/or atoned for.”

“War on Earth, war in the Last Stop Before the Drop, war in Heaven,” I commented casually, singing my words like a song. Not like I was expecting a reply!

“There is no war in Heaven. Allah forbids and Allah is All-powerful. The ones whose souls dwell in Heaven are protected. The ones whose souls have not earned Heaven are not protected, which is why evil can access and mislead them,” he said, thoroughly convinced of his own words. “Like how evil accessed and misled you, Ma,” he added, and I thought he could have left that out.

“Let’s take a walk.” He led the way. As we rounded the massive fountain, I saw a lot of other young men and young women speaking to someone older who was listening attentively. I was not accustomed to some little kid or teenager or young adult trying to teach someone old enough to be their mother or father. When I was a young kid, a teenager, and a young adult, I didn’t try to teach the older people shit. I just swerved around them, ignored or tricked them somehow. I was young and swift. Halfway around the huge fountain, we faced a forest.

“A forest?” I said, as I followed behind him. I had not ever in my lifetime walked into any forest. I never even seen one. Sometimes driving or riding shotgun in a whip on a highway I would see a lineup of trees. But that’s not how this forest that Young Drummer and me and many others were walking towards was. I noticed everyone was walking in clusters of two or more people who were walking and talking together. There were no unaccompanied people. There were no solo joggers or hikers. There were no loners wearing earplugs and headphones or carrying iPods or iPhones or iPads or selfie sticks or anything that a person could enjoy alone. There were no homeless-type people sitting, standing, begging, or laying around

“This is Usra Shajara Muntaza or, as you would understand in English, it’s called Family Tree Park. By the Mercy and Grace of Allah, all UBS escort their no-longer-living-on-Earth parent or parents who aborted them into this park. You are no longer in the Last Stop Before the Drop, but you are not even close to Heaven. This park is located in the City of Mercy. It is a welcome gift to the dark souls who willed to come here. It is a glimpse of Allah’s unimaginable creations and magnificence and a place for the UBS to say their final farewells. Also located inside of this park is the place where all souls escorted here, after willingly seeking the only way out of the Last Stop Before the Drop, will learn to acknowledge, understand, and humble themselves. You and them will remain in this city until your humbling is sincere. Let’s go in, Ma,” he said. I walked in beside him. I saw trees of every kind. They were beautiful in such a way that I could not explain to myself what I was seeing or feeling. Then I realized, these trees were like jewels to me. My eyes needed only to take a close look. When I did, the authenticity, beauty, and design captured and held my stare.

“Purple trees. That’s dope,” I said aloud.

“Those are known as wisteria trees,” Young Drummer said. And, as he said, I saw other UBS giving the tour and explaining to their, I guess, parents or parent. They were at a standstill admiring what I was admiring and what anyone who could recognize true art would admire. There were more purple wisterias than my eyes could properly count. The forest that he called a park was so vast that even though there were many families, it didn’t look or feel crowded like how crowded a picnic is in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park on a hot August summer day. Every little cluster had their own space. In fact, I was wrapped in the feeling like it was only me and him even though it was not. Zigzagging patterns of steps and cement benches were woven before, after, and in between the powerfully purple trees. Some parents broke off the straight path to sit with their UBS. Young Drummer and I continued walking till the tens of purple trees ended and the tens of blue trees began, a beautiful blend of colors.

“Those are known as jacaranda trees,” Young Drummer said. “And all of the trees that you see here in the City of Mercy, you would not see gathered together in the same city, state, or country if you were on living Earth. On Earth the trees are placed in a specific region and need a certain climate and timing to blossom and grow. All of nature was created by Allah. As you can see, in the City of Mercy, Allah does as Allah pleases to do.” We walked through the blue forest for some time, and I again heard the sound of water nearby.

“Another fountain?” I asked him.

“No, it’s a brook. A freshwater stream that runs throughout the park,” he said calmly. He seemed to know so much.

The scent in this forest was unlike the scent that introduced Young Drummer when he arrived in the Last Stop location to come get me. It was a different kind of perfume than his cologne. Maybe it was the blended scents of all of the different trees. I thought if I could get leaves from each kind of tree here, I probably could make the dopest, most expensive perfume line ever to be offered in high-end perfumeries and department stores. After the blue, we walked through a valley of unbelievable maple trees lined up and interlocked except for the path we walked on, which was now filled with red leaves, as though only the maple section was experiencing autumn, while the other trees were in the summer season. Then the maple tunnel turned into a forest of bright-red trees that were rooted in the soil and striking a conceited pose like, Yeah, you seen the rest, now take a look at the best!